


You'll Miss The Ground

by Evancalous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Astronomy, Did I mention fluff?, Fate, Fluff, M/M, Outer Space, Tutoring, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evancalous/pseuds/Evancalous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry always wanted to go to outer space; that is, until he met someone who made him forget the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Miss The Ground

**Author's Note:**

> I like to call this my ode to unrequited love, fate, and outer space.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Hope you enjoy :)

“You’ll miss the ground, kid.”

That was how Harry’s Uncle responded to him when he said he wanted to be an astronaut one day.

To be honest, it was never something Harry had thought about before. The ground was the last thing on his mind; his head was stuck above the clouds, eyes focused on the spectacular blasts and vitality of a supernova. It’s not like he minded the darkness of the universe, either. He figured that space was always filled with something. There was always a new star or an undiscovered solar system. Every dark gap was an expanse filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered. He swore he would never get tired of outer space.

 

Then he went to college seven years later to get a Bachelor’s Degree of Science in Astronomy, and he definitely missed the ground. His natural ability to not understand physics worked against him and his astrologist career so much that he was just barely receiving passing grades. He swore that he would never get a peer tutor, but as a struggling sophomore about to fail out of school, he really had no choice. He signed his name up on the list, and later that day he got an email from a ‘Louis Tomlinson’ saying he’d been assigned to be Harry’s tutor. Harry mentally kicked himself for admitting his stupidity to the World and going through with this.

They met for the first time the next day in the library, and Harry mentally kicked himself for being so stupid as to kick himself the day before: this guy was hot. He had long, dark, ash brown hair that was perfectly swept out of his face by solar winds; it was a strangely sophisticated and appropriate form of sex hair. His eyes were the cerulean blue that artists use to paint their skies, his skin was the soft glowing white-core of a star, his facial hair was evenly spread over his face like constellations in the night sky, and his body was ever so slightly curved like the path of a comet.

“Are you Harry?”

Even if aliens from an undiscovered universe contacted Harry and asked him this question in perfect English, it wouldn’t have been nearly as phenomenal as hearing Louis speak his name. Harry knew he was infatuated, and there was no return from this blast-off.

 

They met two times a week at first, and Harry found himself counting down the seconds until he would be in the same study-room as Louis. Harry tried to see how long he could get Louis off-topic for; it started with him making a joke, Louis laughing for five seconds, and then he’d put Harry back to work. By the third week, Harry would make a joke, Louis would laugh for five seconds, they’d talk about something random for five minutes, and then they’d go back to work. Harry was content with this change.

He learned that Louis could be amazingly sarcastic, even to himself. One time when Harry asked him where he’d go on vacation, Louis responded with, “I would like to go on a nice boat, around places – that’s called a _cruise_.” Harry learned that when Louis laughed – _truly_ laughed – he’d get these crinkles by his eyes. He got into the habit of playfully teasing Harry whenever he deemed it necessary, like when Harry forgot that quasars required super massive black holes to be powered, and Louis bombarded him with, “What? I’m sorry, could you say that again? I didn’t watch the last week’s episode of General Galaxy; were quasars disowned from the active galactic nuclei family tree?” Louis also had two laughs, which Harry loved equally as much. The first was loud and unabashed, bouncing off the walls like photons bouncing off mirrors. The second was quiet and contained, usually a giggle that he’d cover up with his hand while his face turned the same color red as the surface of Mars.

Sometimes, Harry saw Louis walking around campus or going up to the observatory. Louis would smile and say “Hey!” while Harry’s heart was slowly sucked into a wormhole. He felt the deep need to impress Louis, so he worked fifty times as hard in all of his classes. He ran around campus each day in part to get in shape, but more so in hope that he’d pass Louis with his calf muscles on display. He even began to use hair gel in hopes that he could tame it to look as touched by cosmic breaths as Louis’ was.

He got Louis’ phone number, and they texted throughout the day and into the night when the moon floated up above the Earth. Sometimes, Harry could only contentedly fall asleep after looking up at the sky and finding peace in knowing that Louis was looking at the same stars.

 

Then midterms were right around the corner, and Harry convinced Louis to meet with him four times a week. Part of it was that he needed a passing grade, but the bigger part of it was that he craved to see Louis and be with Louis and just observe Louis more than the one-hour of Harry-and-Louis-study-time they had twice a week. It was like Louis was a planet, and Harry was being pulled into his gravitational field. Everything about Louis was addicting; his charm, his smile, his eyes, his personality, his laugh, his – everything. It was his everything. Harry couldn’t find a fault in Louis. He couldn’t remember ever being so deeply infatuated with someone before.

Right before Harry’s last midterm, Louis texted him the address of a party happening that night with the words ‘midterm survival reward?’

Harry showed up to the house when the party was well underway and fought his path through the gas giant to find Louis. He was offered at least three different drinks from one blond guy, who was clearly wasted, but Harry didn’t want to do anything until he knew what Louis was doing. Someone yelled, “NIALL!” and the blond guy’s attention was immediately darted over to the living room and he ran off. Harry was intrigued, so he followed to where all the shouting was coming from. And that was where he finally found Louis, at a table surrounded by at least twenty people and playing an intense game of beer-pong against the blond guy.

Louis somehow came out of the game victorious, and people flocked around him, patting him on the back and shouting “The Tommo!” Harry didn’t know how it happened, but Louis’ eyes somehow skimmed past everyone else in the room and landed onto Harry’s gaze. Louis beamed his huge, light-blinding smile and hovered his way above the floor, past all of the faceless people, towards Harry; Harry felt like he’d just located the Northern Star and was being led back home.

 

The next thing Harry knew, it was three hours later and they were lying on their backs in the middle of the quad while looking up at the night sky. Louis was his sober self once again, and even though it was well past midnight, he somehow retained almost every corner of his knowledge. He pointed up to the stars, animatedly exclaiming, “Oh, Harry – look at Pegasus! You can kind of see M15 next to its nose: see it? It’s three hundred and sixty thousand times brighter than the sun. Oh, this is awesome. M15’s one of the oldest globular clusters known to mankind. Kind of weird to think that there’s a black hole in the middle, isn’t it?” Louis was so thrilled and passionate that Harry found himself admiring yet another aspect of him. Harry didn’t care about Pegasus or M15; he cared about Louis. All of his attention was focused on Louis, and if M15 was three hundred and sixty thousand times brighter than the sun, then Louis was three hundred and sixty thousand times brighter than M15.

Louis turned his head on its side so he was looking at Harry just as Harry was looking at him. A small, mischievous smile grew on his lips as he bumped his legs into Harry’s.

“You know, I like you.”

And Harry didn’t need anything else to give him the courage after that, so he leaned in, closing the space between them, his nose skimming over Louis’, before he stopped to look. He fully intertwined his legs with Louis’. He could feel Louis’ breath on his face; almost taste his scent. He moved his hand so that it lay directly over Louis’ heart. He felt the thumping, the beating, the life, the beauty, before Louis whispered, “Oh, be a fine guy: kiss me.” Louis used the mnemonic device to remember the Morgan-Keenan system as a new way to flirt and yeah, Harry was completely gone for him. If normal people were head over heels in love, Harry was head over the atmosphere in love with Louis. He was mystified seeing his own reflection in Louis’ blown out pupils, discerning their matching freckles, and observing how the green surrounding Louis’ blue irises matched up with the blue surrounding Harry’s green irises. “Well…you gonna kiss me or not?” And yes, he was. Harry slowly closed his eyes and the gap between their lips until finally – _finally_ – the moment it seemed like he’d been waiting his entire life for happened.

He was engulphed in a solar storm with Louis, flares erupting and stellar winds pushing them together, trying to permanently keep them attached by their lips. All Harry saw were the spectacular blues, greens, purples, pinks, reds, yellows, and oranges bursting out of the breathtaking aurora borealis. His entire body felt like it was an exploding Wolf-Rayet star. He was consumed by _LouisLouisLouis_ , but that was okay, because Louis was just as consumed by _HarryHarryHarry_.

From then on, Harry didn’t need to observe the sky to see or touch a star. He found his place amongst them, and it was aligned with Louis.

 

Even ten years later, with Louis smiling and wrapped up in his arms, fingers running over the matching golden bands that securely orbit around their left hands’ fourth finger, Harry thinks no: he doesn’t miss the ground.


End file.
